The End of All That is Good and Pure
by Lint
Summary: The road to hell is paved with good intentions. F/F. Dark fic.


Title: The End of All That is Good and Pure  
Author: Lint  
Email: CrashDarby@aol.com  
Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respected copyright holders.   
Rating: R  
  
***  
  
Everyone has a dark side.   
  
A small part of themselves they keep hidden from the rest of the outside world. It's somewhere buried deep inside, safely tucked away. Most people never admit this about themselves. They prefer to live in denial. I'm not bad, they say. I would never do that. You have to laugh, because you know that they're lying. This little part of you is where the lies come from. There is no mercy. There are no inhibitions. Impulses of anger, hate, or desire stir inside you every now again, reminding you of the beast inside. Some shun it. Some welcome it. Some lose themselves completely yet manage to crawl back.   
  
I can't tell you which one of these categories I fall into.   
  
You never really know what you are capable of until you do it.   
  
Whatever 'it' happens to be depends on you.   
  
The person you choose to be.   
  
I know who I am.   
  
I know what I'm capable of.   
  
Believe me when I tell you that I never thought I could do it either.   
  
They say people do a lot of stupid things for love.   
  
I'd never fully understood the saying. Or that fact that it existed at all. People and they're little sayings, thinking that they could actually be helpful in some mild way. Thinking that they could ease someone's troubled mind. They're really trivial you know. The sayings. They don't actually mean anything. Actions have always spoken louder than words.   
  
But sometimes you still find yourself screaming.   
  
***  
  
Lana Lang was pretty.   
  
And popular.   
  
And she got good grades, and was nice to nearly everyone she knew. She was always nice to me. But that's not why I loved her. I had my reasons. I had so many reasons. But I can't think of any right now. None that I can break down into terms that would make any kind of sense. They're not important anyway. As if they ever really were.   
  
She never knew at first.   
  
I'm very good at keeping things from people.   
  
And no, don't be so surprised.   
  
Everyone is capable of lying.   
  
Some are just better at it than others.   
  
I think that, to her, I was always just Clark's friend. Her somewhat rival. For his affections, for his friendship. Take your pick. Lana would never admit that though. She was too nice. Too friendly. If anyone had a rivalry with her she'd most likely ask you why, then do her best to make it not feel that way. She wanted everyone to be comfortable around her. She wanted a world of peace and tranquility.   
  
It was sweet how naive she could be.   
  
It made me want her more.   
  
***  
  
I never expected her to reciprocate my feelings toward her. I was quite aware of the fact that it was all just a pipe dream. That unattainable goal you keep striving for despite all odds. For awhile after Whitney had left, I honestly thought Clark would finally make his move. But he didn't. And for awhile I thought Lana would actually say something to him. But she didn't.   
  
I was kind of sad to watch those two in the beginning of that summer. Those long lovelorn looks being passed back and forth with no end in sight, and no action taken. It was almost disgusting how shy they were. Anyone else would have just known there was something between the two of them. Anyone but themselves.   
  
Eventually I got sick of it.   
  
Watching them watch each other.   
  
It was like a TV show that lost its edge. The viewers went to find something else. I'd stayed away from the Talon for nearly three weeks before Clark asked me why I never came around anymore. I told him I got sick of coffee. He believed me and didn't ask anymore. Lana, however, was full of questions.   
  
Why don't you come around anymore Chloe?   
  
Is something wrong?   
  
Did I do something?  
  
This isn't about Clark is it?  
  
Lana was always worried she'd inadvertently made someone mad at her. That peace and tranquility thing again. The look on her face when I told her I was tired of watching her and Clark make goo goo eyes at each other all day was all shock. Then laughter. And next thing I knew we were both on my living room floor, clutching at our stomachs from laughing so hard. It was nice to share a moment like that with her. She then apologized for making me uncomfortable, but things between her and Clark were complicated.   
  
It all seemed pretty simple to me.   
  
I asked why she held back from him.   
  
The look on her face wasn't shock anymore. It was my turn for that.   
  
She told me that she was maybe, kind of curious about someone else.   
  
That she'd been watching me, watching her.   
  
And all that time I thought I was being discrete.   
She said she'd been wondering. Why I looked at her the way I did. Why she thought she liked it. What it would be like.   
  
Her lips were so soft, and her skin so smooth. It was like holding a china doll. So delicate. So wondrous. You were afraid of breaking it, but wanted it to hold it so much.   
  
Part of me is still surprised that it was all so easy.   
  
I liked her.   
  
She liked me.   
  
Simple.   
  
Maybe if Clark weren't so goddamn shy I wouldn't even have a story to tell.   
  
But he is.   
  
And I do.   
  
So here we are.   
  
***  
  
The worst thing about Lana Lang causing pain is that you knew she never wanted to. Or that she never meant to.   
  
Don't tell me you dream of holding me if you don't mean it.   
  
Don't kiss me if you don't mean it.   
  
Don't sneak into my room in the middle of the night looking to fuck if you don't mean it.   
  
Don't date me and want to keep it hidden.   
  
Don't break up with me and not expect me to be hurt.   
  
We dated nearly all summer.   
  
Lana and me.   
  
Me and Lana.   
  
It sounded so wonderful when I would think about. It made my head spin and my heart sing. Lana Lang was my girl. I was the one who had the guts to get her. I was the one with the reward.   
  
Do you know how humiliating it is to win such a prize just to have it stripped away?   
  
I do.   
  
Lana begged for me to understand. That she was sorry. It was just curiosity. She wasn't really *that* way. Funny how she seemed that way when we kissed, when we snuggled. Funny how she seemed that way when my fingers were inside her. Funny how she seemed that way everytime I made her come.   
  
She said she never meant to hurt me.   
  
I don't think she ever meant to do anything.   
  
I always hated people like that.   
  
***  
  
I managed to keep to myself the rest of that summer. I avoided Clark's worried nature and Pete's prodding questions. I stayed far away from Lana. If I saw her walking down the street, I turned and went the other way. If we happened to be in the same store at one time, I left. If I saw her in line for the movies, I would go another day.   
  
Oh, I wanted to yell at her. To embarrass her in front of everyone. Exact revenge and absolve my anger. No one knew about me. No one knew about us. She wanted to keep it that way. Made me promise never to tell anyone. We lived in a small town, and sure, modern times and all, it was still close minded toward a person's sexual preference. I wouldn't have cared then. I was lonely and miserable.  
  
I was in my bedroom nearly every night, staring at the ceiling through tear blurred eyes, mind swimming in my last memory of the both of us together. My hand working so vigorously between my legs, crying the whole damn time.   
  
She never meant to hurt me.   
  
Bullshit.  
  
I wanted her to know that the road to hell was paved with good intentions, and that she was making sure I was heading there on a highway made of gold.   
  
No matter how nice a person is or can be, ending a relationship always ends in pain.   
  
Everyday I waded through a world of my own anguish.   
  
I wanted to share.   
  
I wanted her to hurt.  
  
***  
  
It was like a slap in the face when I first saw her and Clark together.   
  
Yes, that way.   
  
Boyfriend and girlfriend.   
  
It made my entire body tingle with rage I didn't know I could generate. Clark and Lana sitting in a tree, watch me wallow in my own misery. She smiled when he held her hand. Her eyes drifted closed when he kissed her. They sat at lunch together. She laughed when he was funny. She hugged him when he was sweet. Perfect Lana and perfect Clark together.   
  
Clark finally got what he wanted. Lana could finally escape the curiosity that haunted her. I was that final question between her and Clark. Now that she had her answer, she was free to date him. Leaving me in the dirt, wallowing in my own self-pity.   
  
But Lana, for all her good intentions against any ill will toward me.  
  
The fact that she continuously watched me when she was with Clark...   
  
That was kicking me while I was down.   
  
That was cracking my ribs with the heel of her shoe.   
  
If she kissed Clark, her eyes came my way. If she grabbed for his hand, she made sure I saw. If she hugged him in the hall, and I was around, her gaze always met mine. Teasing me. Tormenting me. Haunting me.   
  
Those dark eyes of hers I'd once thought sparkled in the stars, mocking me with every sign of affection.   
  
I told you I wasn't like that, they said. I told you.   
  
Lana never wanted to hurt anyone.   
  
Well, I guess you finally get that anyone is capable of anything.   
  
That dark little space we hide from the world.   
  
Just reminding us that it's there.   
  
***  
  
The last straw came with a phone call from Clark. It was nearly three in the morning on a Sunday, and I wasn't exactly in the best mood to talk. And he wasn't exactly someone I wanted to talk to. But he was excited. His voice frantically whispered a sea of words that made very little sense. The most I'd gotten was that he was sorry he called so late, but he had to talk to me. I wouldn't believe what happened.   
  
I wanted to rip the phone out of the wall then.   
  
But I didn't.   
  
He and Lana...  
  
I mean Lana and he...  
  
She told him she was ready.   
  
They'd been dating for a whole fucking month and she was ready.   
  
Hate to tell you Clark, I wanted to say. But I was already making Lana scream while still sat in your loft playing with your telescope. I was making her pant and blush and come. I was there before you. I should still be there. But no, I was only a goddamn curiosity.   
  
He went on and on, never going into detail, for that I am grateful, but it still didn't make it any better to listen too.   
  
I wanted to hang up on him.   
  
But I didn't.   
  
I just listened.   
  
Slowly cutting my hand against a broken bottle. Silent tears mixing with blood as I stained my carpet.   
  
Dad still wants to know where that spot came from.   
  
***  
  
I found her in the bath.   
  
She had some kind of calm, soothing music coming from the stereo she had perched on the sink. It reminded me of something you heard in infomercials for home massagers and paraffin baths. She lay contently in the water, still so warm that you could feel the heat from it. Her eyes blissfully closed in the relaxed atmosphere.   
  
We'd taken a bath together once. I tried not to think about that.   
  
She didn't hear me as I entered, the music easily drowning out my footsteps.   
  
However, her brow did crease. Like she sensed someone else was in the room.  
  
Maybe she thought it was Nell just coming in to get something.   
  
Maybe she thought it was Clark being spontaneously romantic.   
  
Maybe she knew it was me.   
  
I stared at her body underneath the water. The soft pink flesh of her breasts, the smooth valley between. The gentle slope of her stomach leading to the patch of curly black hair. I would have given anything to make her mine again. To kiss her in the tub that seemed so serene. Her skin was that of a China doll. The kind that made you want to hold on and never let go.   
  
But I had let go.   
  
And now look what I have become.   
  
The water never so much as rippled in my wake.   
  
The music easily covered her gasps.   
  
She never even opened her eyes.   
  
***  
  
The police said that there were no signs of struggle. No drugs in her system. No evidence of foul play at all. It was the perfect scenario for just another tragic teenager taking their own life.   
  
Poor Nell.   
  
I did feel sorry for her.   
  
She was frantic to find some sort of explanation for it. She said that Lana had absolutely no reason to kill herself. Nearly the whole town agreed.   
  
Lana Lang was popular.   
  
She got straight A's.   
  
She was happily dating Clark Kent.   
  
She had everything to live for.   
  
Maybe...  
  
What they don't know is that Lana didn't even cry as the flash of silver from my hand slowly began to drain the life out of her. She never cried out for help, or screamed in pain. The whole thing may never have happened if she had, but she never even opened her eyes to see.   
  
Maybe she knew it was me.   
  
Maybe she knew she had it coming.   
  
Maybe she wanted it.   
  
***  
  
Lana's funeral.   
  
Nearly half the town stood around the freshly dug hole, staring, waiting, and watching.   
  
No one could believe Lana Lang was in that casket.   
  
No one really wanted to.   
  
No one would have believed Lana dated another girl.   
  
No one would have wanted to.   
  
We all stood dressed in black. The color of mourning. The color of death.   
  
No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to cry.  
  
Nell was crying. Martha Kent was crying. Pete was crying. A bunch of Lana's old cheerleader pals were crying. People I didn't know were crying. Even Clark seemed a little misty-eyed as he stood stone still staring at Lana's mahogany box. I couldn't feel sorry for Clark. I never even bothered to try. He took her from me. I know he had know idea about Lana and me. I don't care either.   
  
My eyes are dry.   
  
There is no regret.   
  
There is no guilt.   
  
There is no sorrow.   
  
She'd been dead to me long before.   
  
The ceremony is just the forgotten period at the end of a sentence.   
  
I stared at the coffin waiting, waiting for it to lower. When she is at the bottom I will take a hand full of dirt and sprinkle it across her, and then I will be done with this. With her.   
  
The group starts in to the first verse of Amazing Grace. I don't sing. My eyes wander the crowd and come across Lex, who isn't singing either. He turned toward me, his mouth fighting the urge to smirk. I got the feeling he didn't do funerals either. I thought of when I first met him. How I saw that part of himself that everyone else kept hidden. How hard he tried to hide it. I saw right through him.   
  
Saw the lies he was capable of. The deceit.   
  
The small part of you that your mind fears to acknowledge. The part capable of such horrible little things, coupled with the lack of conscious to care.   
  
Lex's eyes met mine in a knowing stare.   
  
I wonder if he thinks the same about me. 


End file.
